A Dreamer Was Mrs Lovett
by angst cupcake
Summary: Sweeney x Mrs. Lovett Nellie was, by nature, a dreamer. Sweeney would never admit it, but it was always so utterly fascinating.


Sweeney/Lovett

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A/N: Hey look! I actually got up another Sweeney Todd fic! LOL Yup, I have my chapter fic "Return Of The Demon" (thank you to all who have supported me through it so far! Much love!) and I decided why not get another up there for fun! XDXD

Disclaimer: I own nothing of Sweeney Todd; no profit is being made, and this is purely fictional. Nothing in this story is meant to defame the characters.

This was a requested fic for **LookingGlassCat**!

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A Dreamer Was Mrs. Lovett

Nellie Lovett, by nature, was a dreamer. Always had been since she was a little girl, wandering about aimlessly with her head in the clouds. Her mother had always warned her that her constant dreaming would disrupt any real chance of a beautiful future. That men didn't make passes at girls whose mind was elsewhere when they were around.

But Nellie never did listen to her mother. Dreaming was her solace, her escape from the world. She did so ever want a beautiful future, but what she knew was that if she didn't get one, she could at least imagine it. Ah yes, she could see it so clearly in her mind's eye:

A wondrous seaside cottage with a loving husband and a child or two. Friends whom she charmed with her almost magical baking skills, and afternoon walks on the shore with loved ones. She could almost feel the sand between her toes, smell the salt that lingered in the air. She could feel the sun on her back, warming the pal, tender skin...

And such a dream had to be conjured everyday as she shuffled about her pie shop, people passing by the windows, their noses wrinkled with scowls on their faces. Some days it seemed that losing herself to the confines of her mind were the only things that got her out of bed in the mornings. The weight of the years that came and went almost seemed to much.

But then she'd remember the cottage, and if she was planning on getting out of this hell-hole they called London, it wasn't by lounging around feeling sorry for herself. And so she'd roll out of bed and face the day's work. And every few hours, when things seemed to amount to a little more than she could handle, her very body would somehow form a kind of auto-pilot, and she would continue on, her mind dancing with vivid images...

Sweeney would never admit to it, but he found it utterly fascinating when Nellie slipped away. Her warm brown eyes glazed over with a cloudy film as she stared off absently into space. It would happen at the most random times too. She could be in the middle of a conversation and suddenly her words would slow, and trail off, and she would be gone. _**Just**_. _**Like**_. _**That**_.

Sweeney found it almost too captivating, and many times he would find himself talking to her just to watch it happen. He would provoke small conversations, ones without many words, to which she would always jump at the chance to talk to him. And Sweeney would say something, just a little tick, and her brow would furrow before her eyes went blank. Sometimes she would smile, her thin lips gracing upwards as something pleasant flashed through her mind.

Other times, very rarely, she'd frown. As if something was going wrong, something was not what it should be. Like a nightmare of some kind. Sweeney would always find himself curious when such occurrences happened. He always wondered what it was that made her scowl. Perhaps it was something he said, or maybe it was just what was going through her at the moment, like some sort of phase. Hormones. Women, honestly...

"Mistah T? Wot do ya think 'o blue? Maybe gray?" Nellie was currently staring at the walls of the barber shop. Her index finger rubbed idly over her lower lip as she squinted about the area. She had currently taken up to transforming his shop. Or at least, trying to. Sweeney had let her touch much, a little over protective of his things. Although, he supposed some color to the place might attract more customers. And Sweeney always enjoyed company.

"I suppose gray." Sweeney muttered, cleansing the scarlet blade in his hand. It still dripped the blood of the previous customer who now lay below, waiting for Nellie to make use of him. But right now, she was standing in the middle of the room, scowling at him. She shook her head, tinged red hair glinting slightly from the sun that shone through the window.

"You're always so bland Mistah T." Nellie sighed, seating herself in the barber's chair. She placed her chin in her hand as she glared at the wall. Sweeney was surprised it didn't burst into flame. She sighed, looking at him expectantly. As if he were to take back his answer and produce a new one. Sweeney frowned.

"The ocean's more gray than it is blue Mrs. Lovett." Sweeney retorted suddenly. He had full knowledge of what he was doing, and just like he planned, _it_ happened. Mrs. Lovett blanked, her lips parting a bit as she did so. The light in her eyes dulled, replaced by a look of simple pleasure.

Sweeney squinted a bit as he studied her, intrigued. He always was no matter how many times he saw it. He was pretty sure Nellie could be in that state for hours if left undisturbed. Taking a few cautious steps forward, Sweeney bent over, cocking his head to the side as he looked over Nellie's face. Wherever she was, from the smile quirking at the corner of her lips, it was good.

Sweeney leaned in, unaware to it mentally as he inspected her with ease. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew she could pop out of her dream at any second. But this really was just a little too interesting. She was a pretty woman, and Sweeney had noticed that. She wasn't his Lucy, for no one could ever be his Lucy. But she was still a very tempting looking woman.

Red, almost auburn, hair that shined occasionally. A petite figure, well curved. Eyes that always sparked with ferocity that matched her spirit. A kind of brilliancy that, again Sweeney would never admit, but could admire from afar. And she just so happened to see things in ways he could never even begin to imagine. Which was maybe why he was so drawn to her when she slipped away. It was something he couldn't do...

Waving a hand in front of her eyes, she blinked slowly, and then the dark eyes were on him.

"Mistah T-" Nellie gasped, leaning away, her cheeks going a bright red. She ruffled her skirts, running her hands to straighten the fabric that was already straight. She flustered about, not meeting his eyes. Sweeney smirked a bit.

"What were you thinking about Mrs. Lovett?" Sweeney inquired, shoving Nellie back into the chair as she tried to rise. Her rump landed with a solid -THUMP- and she wrinkled her nose in obvious upset. She glared up at him, folding her arms over her chest in a disgruntled effort to try and hide the goose-bumps that had risen on her chest as Sweeney placed a hand on her shoulder. His skin seemed like that of ice.

"Nothing much really Mistah T," Nellie looked over her shoulder with a frown, "I best be gettin' back to me shop, Love. Don't want to leave poor Toby down there all by himself." Nellie could hear the sound of the door opening and closing downstairs. Her scowl became deeper as she tried to get up again only to be shoved back down once more.

"The look on your face says otherwise Mrs. Lovett," Sweeney's breath on her neck made her break out into a fresh jolt of shivers, "Do tell, Love."

"Nothing important. Now if you'll" Nellie stiffened when she felt cool metal to her neck, a glint of silver sparkling in the corner of her eyes. It pressed down a bit, enough to bite into her skin but cause no major damage. A small trickle of blood fell from the cut, running down her neck and across the bump of her collar bone before disappearing between her breasts.

"You're sure?" Sweeney chuckled in her ear, his lips meeting the hollow beneath her ear. Nellie's breath hitched, her chest starting to heave ever so slightly. She gasped, arching off the chair slightly as he bit down on her shoulder, one his hands slipping behind her and undoing the laces. All the while, keeping the razor at her throat.

"Mistah T!' Nellie breathed his name through a hiss of air. He pulled away, yanking her up as he did so. The razor cut into the skin where her shoulder met her neck. She let out a small shout, not loud enough to be heard by those downstairs.

"Now Mrs. Lovett," Sweeney had her against the wall, the razor carving out the laces of her dress with ease, "Don't tell me nothing. For once wouldn't you like to have me interested in what you have to say?" The words hurt somewhat. Yes, she would like him to listen to her. But all the time, not this once.

"Now what was it you could see my dear." Sweeney nearly purred in her ear. The razor cut at the last ribbon and he gave the corset a jerk, letting it slip to the floor. The lacy undershirt was all that hid her from the world, once he was finished with her skirts. Nellie bit her bottom lip enough to make it bleed, which only proceeded to make Sweeney just a little more erratic.

"The ocean," Nellie gasped as the sash to her skirts was torn away ant the razor made a thin incision on her stomach, "The ocean. The sand. The sun. The waves. The salt..." There didn't seem to be enough air in the room. She couldn't breath, not when Sweeney's hands were working their way under the lace, dragging it off and tossing it to the floor.

Nellie was naked to the world, her pale skin giving off some kind of luminescent glow. She was most likely the prettiest damn thing Sweeney had seen in years. Besides the blood shrouding his razor, of course. Nothing but Lucy's beauty could top that.

"The ocean?" Sweeney's mouth met Nellie's neck, biting at the tender skin, marking her sharply. She let out a small mewl, her finger fumbling with his jacket. The slipped beneath, shoving the coat to his elbows and then off, before jerking at the ties to his vest. Nellie's hands are on his skin in seconds, palming every inch of it that she can.

"Yes, Love, the ocean." Nellie sighed into his hair as he buried his face into the crook of her neck. His hands, still so cold, but ever so comforting, were on her hips. They kept her pinned to the wall, kept her from going any where. As if she wanted to anyway. Really? Some common sense here people.

"The ocean. With you and Toby. With you..." Nellie murmured, the air seeming to thin again as Sweeney's hands groped her body hungrily. She caressed his back, fingers tracing the scars ravishing the skin. They had a scaly feeling to them, an interesting texture that wasn't exactly nice, but wasn't repelling either.

"With me." Sweeney repeated her words gruffly. Nellie could hear the ruffle of his pants as he worked to undo the belt around his hips. With a willing hand, Nellie reached down, wrenching it playfully from his waist, managing to pull his hips to hers in a frisky movement. He smirked at her, the dark eyes flashing. Nellie arched suddenly, pain making the room spin frantically.

Sweeney had the razor craw a long gash along her stomach, blood starting to brim and the pool over down her abdomen. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt...oh, but it felt so good at the same time. A sick twist of pain and pleasure creating a delicious mixture that rippled through her body.

"Sorry love. I prefer red, not blue." Sweeney breathed into her ear. Another incision graced Nellie's side, the same crazed pleasure heating her from the inside out. Oh, it felt so good as it was painful. She only craved more, so much more. Pulling, with jerky movements, she had her legs around his hips, thrusting eagerly against his slim body.

Nellie wanted him. Wanted him so bad. Needed him more than ever, her body craving release in its eerie presence of lust and blood. Sweeney pushed against her, crushing her into the wall fiercely. He filled her, her moans louder now, the razor still creating thin slices here and there. The electricity made her jolt, her body arching thirstily against his.

It seemed, of their own accord, Nellie's arms reached up, fingers latching onto the frames of the wall. She held herself there, because, dear God she was not losing this angle. Not on her life. One of Sweeney's hands gripped her waist, and it was more than likely there were going to be bruises there the next day. And the other rested on the swell of her left breast, gently stroking the supple flesh.

He growled against her shoulder, biting down sharply. More blood. Only more red, and more red, and pleasure. Oh yes, the pleasure, the pure tightness of it all. The wet heat. The heart thumping erratically. The veins rushing. The blood that still rained down slowly, not enough to be fatal, but enough to slick their bodies together.

"The ocean," Sweeney gruffed, "Yes, love, the ocean." He was ever so close. And he could feel it in her too, the way her muscles coiled about him, dragging him to the edge. She gasped and moaned a garbled string of words, all mixed together, but he could hear the ocean. The cottage. The sunsets. The sand. Everything had to do with the future of what might be. But Sweeney was focused in the here and now and-

Sweeney's breath shortened to a stop as the edges of his vision flashed white. Nellie came off the wall, enwrapping him with her arms, fingers digging into his hair. She cried out his name, her throat burning, her lungs forcing in air she couldn't seem to swallow.

And then Sweeney stepped back, his legs feeling somewhat weak as he pulled everything back on. He fumbled with the belt, a slight shake to his fingers. Nellie slipped down the wall, catching her breath as she gave him a lazy smile. He retreated away from her, only listening to her shuffle about and gather the torn remnants of her gown.

"I'll be makin' a fresh batch o' pies down stairs, Love. Call if you need--anything, alright deary?" She sighed airily, a lift to her voice as she gave a small wink. Sweeney could hear the smile on her face grow happily. The bell tinkled a moment later, and Sweeney kept his eyes to the window, never looking back. To dwell on the past, and not that of sexual encounters, was only for the judge. She was gone and everything was returning to it's dreary state, the gray suddenly overwhelming.

Sweeney found himself remembering the red tinge of her hair, splayed across the wall behind her. The red of her skin as it was slathered with blood. Her blood. Yes, how delectable she was. So damn tempting, it was hard to resist. Again the bell tinkled and Sweeney almost expected her to be back, but she was not. Just another gentleman with a dirty beard coming in for an appointment.

Sweeney offered the man as much a smile as he could, whilst taking his hat. The man gave a weak grin and Sweeney gestured for the chair.

"How about a shave?"

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I think I did alright for a somewhat sexy story. What do you think? Feedback/Reviews is LOVE!!


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